The Hobbit: An Unexpected Tangle
by FallenNiji
Summary: Ione was never the respectable Hobbit she was raised to be by her dearest aunt Lobelia. She was too creative, too free, too adventurous. Oh no, I think going off with company of male dwarves puts a stomp on her already weak reputation. But how could she resist when the promised her the lanterns and mountains she's only dreamed about? NaNoWriMo2017. Fem!Bilbo.


**So you might just notice some lines from both the Hobbit and Tangled, don't be alarmed. I'm literally meshing the Tangled and Hobbit universes together, with a few changes here and there. A few things will be added, and a few certainly taken away. There will be mentions of slash and mpreg (probably done too), and culture differences. Oh, and the usage of frying pans. Oh yeah, the timeline is pretty screwed up too. Like real screwed up.**

 **What I'm most excited for is altering the songs to suit Ione and Arda. Oh and Nori.**

 **This fic is for NaNoWriMo 2017, so this will be my main focus unless I get greatly inspired, I won't be updating my other stories any time soon**.

 **Firstly this will be posted on Ao3 before here.**

* * *

This story begins not in a hole beneath the ground, not in a faraway kingdom ruled by dwarves, and not even with the rebirth of an Elf. Oh no, my dears. This story begins in a faraway land only few could even dream about entering; in the home of the Valar there lived a certain Lady that weaved the future. The future the Lady Saw was not kind, nor was it filled with life. It Spoke of fire and death, darkness and blood. It spoke of their destruction and grief. The Lady's name was Vairë, and with the help of her fellow Ladies of Valar, they created a Change. But this is not their story. Nor is it any of the immortal race's.

This story belongs to a young Dwobbit who was gifted with the ability to change the future, and save it along the way.

At first, there wasn't much of a future for the small girl, as she was doomed to die with her mother due to complications in birth. But Bungo, the Hobbit lad who swore to protect and care for the child not of his blood, went on a small adventure to look for a healer who could save his dying wife. There were no healers in Bree that would be willing to help, or even had the abilities to, and Bungo was not as foolish as to venture to Rivendell all on his lonesome. After all, he was but a Hobbit unused to travel and the ways of the world. So, with a heavy heart, he travelled back to Shire with the knowledge he wouldn't be able to save his wife and her child.

And _oh_ , what a scandal Belladonna Took caused. Returning from a journey that the Disturber of Peace dragged her on, heavily pregnant with too old eyes that have seen death and a pack full of weapons and scrolls among other possessions. Her hair was braided – and Hobbits never put braids in their hair bar the youngest! – with carven beads made out of silver. It was the talk of the Shire for many generations, especially when _Bungo Baggins_ , a most respectable Hobbit and the owner of that _splendid_ smial, took her as a wife.

It soon became known that the child was not of Hobbit blood; it was rather obvious as Belladonna was past her due date by _six_ months! Oh yes, both Bungo's and Belladonna's reputation was quite ruined. You should've seen what a ruckus Lobelia Sackville-Baggins – Bungo's distant aunt who has been in the family for centuries (in all honesty, that should've rung alarm bells) – caused when she learned of his intentions.

(Hidden by the forest and earth, the Earth Mother Yavanna frowned. Then she smiled, eyes glinting with mischief. That Lobelia was going to get a wake-up call soon enough, for Yavanna was disappointed with such a greedy _monster_ being of her creation. The Green Mother just hoped that the little Change wouldn't get hurt, or worse, _killed_ by that old hag.)

To his dying day Bungo would never be able to tell you what caused him to take a sharp turn. However, he would never regret it. He wasn't an idiot. As soon as his eyes layed on the golden flower, a basket thrown to the side, he knew the Mother had granted him this. For there were legends of the Mother granting the Shire a magic golden flower that had the ability to heal the sick and injured, and one day a child would come out of it's abilities. Bungo saw the blessing as it was, and gently ripped the flower from the earth. He glanced at the way he came and saw that it was covered with trees. For a moment, he worried he did the wrong thing, but then another path opened up. It led to the Shire.

He rushed back to Bag End, clutching the flower in his hand with a grin. He didn't speak to his wife or her midwife, his sister Belba, as he brewed a special tea using the flower. The brew healed the Hobbit lass and less that a day later, a new life was brought into the world.

It was obvious that the father of the child was neither Elf, Man or Hobbit. Her hair flowed like gold and her eyes reminded many Hobbits of the meadows of the Shire; bright, warm and filled with life. Her hair was not too curly and her feet were a bit small, still larger than a Man's or Dwarf's and had thick Hobbit hair on them. Freckles dusted over her pointy nose and rosy cheeks.

Soon enough, everyone realised that the bright little girl that loved flowers and life and adventures and the stars was indeed half a Dwarf. And everyone (or the Hobbits at least) knew that Dwobbits reached the age of majority at fifty. Oh don't look at me like that. The Tooks were rather queer in their choice of marriage partners. It wouldn't be the first time a Dwobbit was born in the Shire, though she was one of the only few to survive. And she was the only one who looked so... _Pretty_.

It was a great relief for Belladonna and Bungo, not to mention Belladonna's family, to see the little girl live past her fifth birthday. The little girl was named Iolanthe Belba Baggins. Iolanthe, a name which means purple flower in an old dialect of Hobbitish; purple because Belladonna loved the colour (and so did little Iolanthe after a few years) and flower so they could honour the magic flower. And of course he named little Iolanthe after his sister Belba, the one who brought her to life. However, unbeknownst to all Hobbits but three, Belladonna also gave her daughter a hidden name, as is the custom among dwarves.

Over the years it was rather obvious to see that the golden haired Dwobbit grew much slower than any other child, but quicker than a Dwarf child according to Belladonna. However, everyone was able to see that even without her heritage little Iolanthe was queer. Oh, she loved books and the garden and painting, but she also loved _adventure_.

It was on one such adventure that little Iolanthe met Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, the very Hobbit she was warned to never be around, in passing. It was a well known fact that Lobelia wanted Bag End from the moment it was built and hated Belladonna with a passion. She was most opposed to Bungo marrying Belladonna. And she had been in a right bad mood for the past fifteen years for some odd reason no one could pinpoint.

Iolanthe blinked, and with a giggled "Sorry!" ran off to save the princess and defeat the evil dragon (re; Primula and Drogo).

Lobelia stared at the place the lass stood, frozen. Because she was not blind. She was not stupid. She recognised the glow and youth the brat excluded. And then she was filled with anger. How dare that girl, that freak, be her flower. How dare she. She wanted nothing more than to cut her and her blasted family down. A plan formed in her head, a plan to get her flower and get Bag End all at once. But before that, she had to see if plan A would work.

At night, when everyone was asleep, Lobelia crept into the faunt's room with a small dagger. She stood above the snoozing lass, eyes cold and greedy. Quietly, as to not wake either of the three residents, she sang a song.

" _Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine..._ " Iolanthe's hair glowed a colour she was familiar with (after all, she's had centuries to familiarize herself with it), and she quickly snatched a lock and cut it off. She scowled when the lock stopped glowing and, albeit it was still a gold colour, it wasn't the same. It didn't glow with the power of the sun. So plan B it was, even if it might take a while for her plan to be completed. For now, she must creep into the room at the dead of night to regenerate her youth.

On her seventeenth birthday, little Iolanthe was gifted a room in Bag End that Bungo and Belladonna allowed her to store her paintings in. Soon after, Iolanthe was outside painting on a blank piece of parchment. For hours she just layed there, frustrated, wondering what she should pint. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a small, green creature the likes of which she has never seen before. She scurried closer for fauntlings were the most curious and fearless creatures of all races.

The strange creature blinked. Iolanthe giggled. Oh yes, she would draw this small creature. Then she would show it to ma and ma would tell her what it is.

She started drawing it. To her surprise, the creature began posing for her! And were they ridiculous poses! They were the type Drogo Baggins did whenever he was around Primula Brandybuck. And even more hilarious!

However, when she wanted to colour her painting, she noticed that the creature wasn't a green colour no more! It turned red! Red like the roses her da grew; red like the rubies ma told tales about! She changed the colour with nothing more than a frown. Iolanthe glanced at the creature again. It turned the colour of amethysts! She changed the colour again. It kept changing colours and she kept changing her's too, until with a frustrated yell, she grabbed the small creature and held it up to her eyes. It squeaked and turned the same colour of her hands.

"Stop that," she told it firmly. It turned gold like her hair. "For the Green Mother's sake, please stop it!" It stuck out it's tongue. She gasped at the creature's horrid manners. If she were ever to do that, her da would cuff her over the ears!

"Iolanthe, dear girl, who're you talking to?" Her ma came into the garden and gasped. Iolanthe, with frustrated tears in her eyes, stuck out the hand holding the creature. It gave an indignant squeak. "Ma! Ma! This creature keeps changing it's colours! It won't stop! I can't draw it!" The Dwobbit hiccuped.

A laugh esceped Belladonna despite her wishes. "Oh my little amethyst. Of course it changes colours; it's a chameleon after all!"

Iolanthe blinked. "Ka-mee-lee-on?"

Belladonna nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, yes! A chameleon! A creature that changes it's colour to it's liking!" She cast an eye at the unimpressed chameleon. "You should let it go, my amethyst. It doesn't look happy."

"Oh!" She let it go. It watched her warily as she bowed slightly. She was a proper Baggins after all. "I apologise for my rudeness, my good chameleon!" The chameleon nodded after a minute and scurried off.

A few weeks later, the chameleon returned and never left. Iolanthe dubbed him Pascal. A nice name, the Hobbits said. For a chameleon that is.

* * *

"Ma! Ma!" Iolanthe rushed into the dining room, where Belladonna was making second breakfast and Bungo was trying to work out how to not burn water. (Her father may be an excellent gardener, clan head, architect and carpenter, but a cook he was not.)

Iolanthe was twenty summers old and her hair was the size of two full grown Hobbits. She was rather adamant about not cutting her hair (you should've heard her wail when she saw her cut piece of hair) and Belladonna and Bungo didn't have the heart to disagree. Besides, the hair was causing no trouble and Iolanthe somehow managed not to trip over it despite tripping over a pebble.

Belladonna barely looked away from the eggs sizzling on her favourite frying pan. "Yes, little amethyst?"

"I fell off a tree!" The two adults' attention was attracted. In no time Belladonna sat Iolanthe in Bungo's favourite armchair and the said Hobbit was off getting the medic kit.

"Where does it hurt? Did you break something? You're not bleeding and nothing is swelling, so that's good. What were you thinking?! Climbing a tree!" Belladonna shook her head, smoothing her daughter's hair and checking for any bumps. "Why would you do that? I know I was an adventurous lass when I was your age, but I had full control over my hands and feet! You trip over your own feet, Iolanthe Belba Baggins!" The young lass winced. She'd never seen her ma this angry before. And from the wide-eyed looks Bungo kept shooting Belladonna, he hadn't either.

"And you!" Belladonna snatched Pascal from Iolanthe's hair. He had tried to hide in her hair by blending in, but no chameleon can fool a Took's eyes. "You are supposed to keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn't go through with her stupid ideas!" Pascal's head fell. There was a certain guilty look on his face that Belladonna knew well. She'd seen in on Iolanthe's cousins from her Sire's side. "She offered you cookies, didn't she?" She deadpanned. The guilt on their face's spoke volumes.

Belladonna groaned. " _Iolanthe_!"

"Now, Bella my dear. Why don't you calm down and let Iolanthe speak for a moment. I've made us some tea to calm down." Bungo soothed. Ah, this was why she fell in love with him. He was able to keep a cool head even in the most drastic of moments. Belladonna sat down in a nearby chair breathless. "You can speak now, dear girl." Bungo smiled encouragingly.

Iolanthe shifted in her chair nervously. "Um... I fell, but I've already told you, haven't I?" She giggled nervously, combing fingers through her hair. She looked unwilling to continue.

"Please continue Iolanthe." Bungo smiled charmingly. He was a Baggins after all, and they've been learning how to charm people's pants off since they were tweens.

"Uh, well, I sorta broke my arm... But!" She hurriedly continued. Her parents' faces made her cringe. She's never seen them look so terrified before. " _But_. It healed."

Belladonna's heart stuttered to a stop. "What?"

"It _healed_. I started crying and–and then my hair started glowing. I don't know why, but I, um, started singing a song and then I was all healed up." Iolanthe looked frustrated, but there was an edge of fear in her eyes. "Is this normal, ma, da?"

Their heart nearly broke into two at her desperate tone. The question was so childish, so innocent, yet it set a heavy weight upon Bungo's and Belladonna's shoulders.

"Oh my dear girl." Belladonna scooped her up and placed her on her lap. Iolanthe curled up and clutched her ma's hair. She was shaking. "Have we ever told you the story of the Shire's magic flower?"

"N-No," her voice cracked. "W-What does that have to do with th-this?" At her question, Bungo and Belladonna started explaining about her adventures (most which she's already heard about), her time with the dwarrow (as is the proper term), and herself falling in love with one such dwarrow. Iolanthe got the shock of her life when she learned who her sire actually is. Belladonna spoke of a great battle where many dwarrow and enemies alike fell, and where her sire fell as well. She spoke of returning of the ridicule she endured, and most importantly of the love Bungo showed her. Bungo spoke of an ill Belladonna and of an adventurous in which their Green Mother helped him find the magical flower of healing, and how she inherited its abilities.

After finishing, Iolanthe was suspiciously silent. Until she looked up at her ma and asked a question that pierced their hearts like an arrow. "Did he love me? Did he even want me?"

"Of course he did!" Belladonna took a deep breath, her heart aching like it always did when she spoke of her lost love. "When I informed of my pregnancy, he was elated and spoke about how he was blessed to have a child. He didn't care for your gender, he was just happy for a child. I told him you were to be a lass, and he nearly broke down crying. He loved you, and he wanted you so _much_. If he were alive today, you'd be spoiled rotten." Belladonna took her daughter's chin between her fingers and made her look at her. "Never doubt his love for you, my amethyst. For he loved you more than the gold in Erebor, more than he loved his own brother and sister."

Iolanthe slept with her parents that night.

* * *

Winter came, her birthday long passed. The Brandywine river froze over and the crops all died out. Snow reached past the knees of wee fauntlings, and at first they loved to play in the snow. But then the orcs and wargs and wolves came. Many died and many fought. Many were lost to the cold or hunger, but also to the orcs and wild animals. A letter pleading for help was sent out to the Rangers and to the Elves of Rivendell, but it was too late by the time they came. For Belladonna Baggins was long dead, felled by an arrow from an orc pack.

Iolanthe, being the foolish fauntling she was, ran out of Bag End in the dead of night with a promise to bring the Elves. (Pascal, went with her, he was a loyal Baggins after all.) She was a strong Dwobbit after all, and no orc or warg or wolf could ever hurt her. She was arrogant, and that's what got her caught. An orc pack surrounded her, and if it weren't for her mother's timely arrival, Iolanthe would've been tortured and dead by the time the Elves of Rivendell arrived. Belladonna managed to kill three orcs and a warg before an arrow pierced her heart. She fell to the cold snow, her sweet daughter falling to her knees beside her. Pascal wide-eyed on her shoulder.

Iolanthe watched her wide eyed, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. Her chameleon companion was no better. She looked absolutely terrified. Her hands shot to the arrow, ready to take it out, but Belladonna weakly grabbed them. "No," she whispered. "Never take an arrow out of a wound, it would only make it bleed faster. Keep it in, I'll live longer." She soothed. It did not have the desired afffect on her daughter. Because Iolanthe was not an idiot. Her ma worded it like she wouldn't survive. Pascal licked his best friend's mother's cheek. He didn't like this.

"M-Ma, I'm so so–" Belladonna shook her head, however much it pained her to do so. She put a hand on her daughter's cheek, wiping away the tears that fell. "Hush now, don't speak. This isn't your fault. It's mine for not watching you better. And for not keeping up with my training." She joked weakly, but it just made Iolanthe sob harder. The light was already leaving her eyes.

(Pascal whimpered. It was also his for not stopping Iolanthe. But Belladonna made no mention of it.)

Then, Iolanthe remembered her ability. "Ma, I could–!" She grabbed her long hair, ready to press it into her ma's wound. The orcs watched gleefully; they always loved watching little one's crying at the deaths of their parents before they tortured them.

Belladonna shook her head sharply. "No," her voice made Iolanthe drop her hair. "Even if I was healed, I would not be able to take on all of them without some getting away. They would speak of your abilities and orcs and others would come to the Shire and take you away." She was crying and gasping for breath by now. "I cannot let that happen." Her hands went weakly to her neck and she took off a pouch. It was well made, purple in colour and lined with silver. "Take this, amethyst. In this pouch are the courting and family beads your father gave me. I give you everything of my own." She placed the pouch into Iolanthe's slackened grip.

Belladonna smiled one last time and mouthed three words. Then, her head fell and she knew no more.

Iolanthe stared at her ma's peaceful face. If it wasn't caked with orc blood, and if her chest was moving, she would've thought her ma was just resting. She tightened her grip on the pouch. Her ma was dead, but even in her final moments she managed to give her everything. Pascal nudged her nose frantically, however Iolanthe didn't react.

"Ha! Did you see that whore's face! Pathetic!" The orc laughed, speaking in Common on purpose. The other orcs laughed alongside him, feeling giddy.

Iolanthe's head was bowed, so they didn't spot her expression. Pascal, on the other hand, did. He did the smart thing and took a step back. He cast a hateful look at the laughing bastards, and could find no pity for them in his small heart. They deserved what was coming to them.

Iolanthe turned so abruptly it seized their laughter. The look on her face _screamed_ murder. And her glowing _blue_ eyes made the orcs realise who (or rather _what_ ) they were dealing with. They paled. Every orc knew not to make _them_ angry, for they were terrifying even when calm.

And this was one furious baby Durin.

* * *

When the Elves of Rivendell, the Rangers and Bungo Baggins arrived, it was to find Iolanthe staring blankly at the orcs littering the ground in various forms of death. She was sitting beside the still form of Belladonna, Pascal on her shoulder. She had orc blood in her hair and on her face and clothes. Pascal didn't escape the blood either. Iolanthe was clutching the pouch in her hands.

The funeral was held three days later. Belladonna was burried in Bag End's gardens. On her grave grew a flower. It was a Belladonna.

A week after the funeral, Bungo, Pascal and Iolanthe temporarily moved to Rivendell. They left Bag End in the care of the Gamgees, whos wore to protect it from grubby Hobbits like Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. In Rivendell, Iolanthe swore to learn healing to save everyone, so no one would have to deal with what she did. She and Pascal made friends with Lord Elrond's children, Glorfindel and even the young Mirkwood prince and his red-headed sister (who was not yet five hundred years old, the age of majority for elves) who visited a few times over the years. She and Pascal spent most of her days with Bungo or her eleven friends, or in the library, the Halls of Healing, the kitchens, the gardens or just wandering around aimlessly. Bungo, on the other hand, spent most of his time in the library or with other elves. Bungo and Iolanthe made no mention of her abilities. Lady Galadriel still somehow knew about them.

Like all good things must end, Bungo managed to hold out until she was thirty eight, but his love for Belladonna was too strong and he died soon after her birthday. There was a law among the Shire folk, that when an underage Hobbit (or Dwobbit in her case) had no parents, they were to be taken in by a Hobbit who had no or very few children until they reach majority. And even a Lord had to listen to the law. Iolanthe and Pascal were soon brought back to the Shire with promise of visiting.

After his funeral (he was burried next to Belladonna in Bag End's garden), she was shuffled off into her smial to meet her new caretaker until she turned fifty. Her caretaker was Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, a woman who she barely knew. She was a sweet talker who managed to have Iolanthe listen to her every word in under a year.

Soon enough, Iolanthe was no more and Ione took her place. Her aunt Lobelia said it was easier to pronounce and remember, and the wee lass didn't want to anger her aunt. Everyday before bed or whenever Lobelia felt like it, Ione sat in front of her singing her Healing Incantation while her aunt Lobelia brushed her hair. Ione didn't know why she did it, or how aunt Lobelia even knew about her hair, but she did whatever to make her happy. Even if she couldn't adventure anymore, even if she couldn't step past Bag End's gate anymore. Her dwarrow self was totally forgotten and locked away.

( _"The outside world is a dangerous place, filled with horrible, selfish Men, Dwarves and Elves. You must stay here where you're safe. Do you understand, flower?"_ )

(Her friends never did visit, nor did they send a letter.)

(Lobelia turned them away. Lobelia bruned them.)

(Ione didn't know.)

(Pascal hated her. He kept out of sight, so aunt Lobelia never did know about Ione's best friend.)

Then, barely a year before her age of majority, a wizard came knocking. He brought with him a company of thirteen dwarves, one of which who would soon become more than a friend to her.


End file.
